


Day in the Life of a Temple Courtesan

by icandrawamoth



Series: Kinktober 2017 [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Community: starwarskinkmeme, Consensual Sex, Kink Meme, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Multi, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Poor Obi-Wan, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: After the war and the fall and death of his Padawan, Obi-Wan just can't anymore. All too happy to give up his normal Jedi life in exchange for becoming the sacred Temple Courtesan, he now spends his days opening his arms, legs, and mouth to any Jedi who seeks to find release.





	Day in the Life of a Temple Courtesan

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober day nineteen prompt "prostitution/sex work" and [this](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=1254474#cmt1254474) kink meme prompt.
> 
> My big milestones keep falling on wild, out-there stuff, but this fic takes me over the line of 200,000 words posted to the Archive. :D Wow.

The skies of Coruscant are still dark outside the windows of the tower when Obi-Wan is woken by a chime announcing someone at the door. He blinks blearily, trying to rouse himself as much as he can, though he knows whoever's here wouldn't have shown up at this hour if they expected him fully awake.

“Come,” he says softly, rolling over on the large, soft bed and pushing his blankets aside. He's already nude, the better for his visitors' access.

The door slides open to admit another Jedi, a human male judging by the silhouette. He doesn't bother with the light, and in the dimness, Obi-Wan doesn't recognize him. “Good morning, Master Kenobi,” he says respectfully, and the voice isn't familiar either.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan responds, gazing up at him from his spot on the bed. He feels no nerves, no fear. He may not know this man, but he knows no one in the Temple will hurt him. The sacred position he's taken on, unfilled for so many years, is only added protection. “What can I do for you?”

The man approaches confidently, unlike some who shows nerves when they enter this room. He drops his robes and undoes his pants, kneeling beside Obi-Wan's head. “Your mouth, if you would, Master.”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan reaches for him, draws the hard cock between his lips and sucks. The man groans, clearly not used to this sort of attention as most Jedi are not, and all but collapses over Obi-Wan, catching his weight on hands braced on either side of his head. Obi-Wan breathes through his nose, hollows his cheeks, silently encourages his visitor to thrust into his mouth. He takes to it enthusiastically.

The encounter only lasts a few minutes before the man is spurting down Obi-Wan's throat with a grunt, then pulling away and putting himself back together. “Thank you,” he says, voice rough, and Obi-Wan nods, then he's gone.

Obi-Wan wipes his mouth on a corner of the sheets and rolls over, falling back asleep.

He dreams. Visions of war, fire, a man he once knew better than a brother, betrayal, death. Thoughts he swore he'd left behind – for that's why he'd taken the position as Temple Courtesan, after all. He couldn't face the world after those things, couldn't return to his old life. This is simpler, something easy he could to help his fellow Jedi. Yet sometimes when he sleeps, his mental discipline slips and the memories assault him.

He wakes again sometime later, the sky outside his tower lightening to watercolor pink, the air traffic below starting to grow louder. Obi-Wan steps from his bed, not bothering to dress. It's easier this way; he never knows when another visitor might show. He goes about his morning routine without thinking: bathing himself in the attached refresher, stretching and doing some calisthenics. Though he no longer goes on missions, he still strives to keep himself healthy and in shape.

In time, an initiate arrives with his breakfast, and he pulls on a loose robe and retrieves it with thanks. He eats gazing out a window, wondering idly about what's going on below today. Since the war was won, Palpatine and his minions defeated, he hasn't followed current events much. Though he has kept an eye on the Senate Building, watched as the monument to democracy slowly recovered from the terrible damage received during the final battle; now the rebuilding is almost complete.

The door chimes again just as he's finishing with his meal, and he goes to answer it, admitting a group of older Padawans just returned from a successful mission, all talking over each other in excitement and crackling with adrenaline-fueled energy. He lets them pull off his robe and ease him onto the carpet, spends the next few hours servicing them and listening to their stories. When the last one trickles out, he finds himself exhausted. He drowses right there on the floor for awhile, still messy and satisfyingly sore.

When he rouses, he cleans himself once more and pulls his robe back on. He would remain naked, almost wishes to, but he's restless now and a walk around the Temple will help, though it is best to cover himself to maintain the innocence of any younglings he may happen across.

He does forgo shoes, though, enjoying the feeling of rough carpet and smooth, cool tile against bare soles as he wanders through the building. He smiles and nods at familiar faces as he passes, bows to the occasional Master. He has no specific destination in mind, merely moving to occupy his body as his mind wanders. He's beginning to ponder going to the library, picking up something new to read to occupy his time between visits when a hand closes on his arm and he looks up.

“Master Windu,” he says, inclining his head to the High Council member.

“Obi-Wan. I hope you're well.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan's eyes focus on the hand on his sleeve. He knows what's coming, can feel the tension radiating off of Mace Windu through the Force.

“If I may,” Windu says, gesturing to a doorway to their right.

“Always.” This also is not unusual. Obi-Wan is always available, whether in his room or elsewhere. He allows Windu to press him into the empty classroom, sealing the door behind them, and divest him of his robe. He runs a hand across Obi-Wan's chest, and that is out of the ordinary – most don't bother touching him like that, though Windu has always been different in that regard. Obi-Wan, in turn, helps his companion remove his own robes before turning lean on a desk, presenting himself.

He listens as Windu retrieves the lube Obi-Wan always carries in a pocket, tenses instinctively as a finger circles his hole. “All right?” Windu asks.

Obi-Wan nods, flexes his fingers on the edge of desk, breathes and wills himself to relax. Windu prepares him fully but quickly, then takes his hips and drives home, punching out Obi-Wan's breath. Windu isn't a cruel partner, but neither is he the most gentle. His thrusts are firm and sure as he seeks his pleasure, making the desk slide across the floor little by little as Obi-Wan puts more of his weight on it.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and tries to breath evenly through the brutal thrusts and the sparks of pleasure they send racing up his spine. The Force pulses around them, as it does whenever two or more beings come together with passion like this.

When Windu spills, it's with a barely-heard sigh, his hands tightening momentarily on Obi-Wan's waist. He breathes heavily for a moment, two, three, but before he pulls away, he reaches around to take Obi-Wan's cock in hand and jerks him, quick and effective. Obi-Wan gasps and spills quickly, pleasure cresting inside him. He doesn't often crave his own release with the way he's in a position of serving others, but he can't deny that it's pleasant when it does come.

He leans on the desk, panting heavily, as Windu straightens himself up behind him, redressing and tucking himself away. He squeezes Obi-Wan's arm again, silently, before taking his leave.

When his heart rate and breathing finally calm, Obi-Wan moves, using the edge of his robe to clean their mess and to soak up the fluid leaking down his thighs. He drapes the robe about himself in such a way that the soiled bit won't be seen, then leaves the room. He does go the library, spends some time there gathering a few docuholos to take back with him. On the way back to his room, he stops at the kitchens for a bite to eat before retiring.

By the time he makes it back to his quarters, the sun is starting to set. As night falls, the visits will grow more frequent. They always do. Tonight, he'll take care of half a dozen more Jedi of various genders and species before finally retiring himself, exhausted but content, ready to face another day of the same tomorrow.

He doesn't mind this. He enjoys being useful. He's respected and well cared for. This is the life he chose, and he doesn't regret a thing.


End file.
